She Left
by Adiiiii
Summary: One minute the light that surrounds her was warming me, then the next minute I was cold and alone. CS eventually. This is a slash fic, so if you don't like it then don't read it.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** So the beginning of this story is set just after the events of Nesting Dolls. Throughout the story some of it will be cannonish but mostly just my own ramblings. I don't own any of the characters, if I did I wouldn't have the time to sit writing about them. Anyway, enjoy...I hope!

**Chapter One**

As I pull up outside Sara's building panic begins to set in. After the furious intensity of our last argument I'm seriously questioning my own sanity - why on earth would she want to breathe the same air as me, let alone sit down and have a heart-to-heart?

_"And you let your sexuality cloud your judgement and I'm going to go over your head."_

Her words still smart, but my earlier anger has now died and been replaced by curiosity and concern. Every time a case has even the faintest whiff of abuse she goes completely off the deep end, and now I want to know why. And what I want even more is to provide her with a friendly ear and a shoulder to cry on. And why do I want that? Well, lets not go there, I'm not sure I'm ready to face that myself. I find myself leaving the car, pulled towards the entrance to the apartment block by an unseen force, whilst my subconcious screams at me, demanding to know what I'm doing. As I near the door a thought suddenly occurs to me - you need someone to buzz you into the building, or to come down and let you in, and the moment she hears it's me on the intercom there is no way in hell she's going to oblige. I could just wait for someone to leave but there's no telling how long that'll take, or how long my bravery is going to last. And even if someone lets me through the front door that still doesn't solve the problem of getting into her apartment. I lean back against the cool glass of the front door - I should just leave, this was a terrible idea. Suddenly I'm stumbling backwards, my support removed, and I spin round, ready to bite off the head of the ignorant fool that just sent me flying (my mood is bad enough that I can easily disregard the fact that I probably shouldn't have been leaning against the door in the first place) but when I see who it is my anger instantaneously dissipates.

"Gil." His blue eyes harden.

"Now is not the time Catherine, she's been dealt with. What she needs now is time alone with her thoughts, not another exchange of anger with you. Let it be." His words don't deter me.

"I understand that, that's why I'm here. I owe her an apology, but I also just want to understand why she reacted the way she did."

"And what makes you think she owes an explanation Catherine? It won't happen again, so as long as it doesn't effect your working relationship it is none of your business."

"Lets not forget that it IS my business seeing as she disrespected me, her superior." My temper flares but cools quickly as my concern dampens the flames. "Anyway, thats irrelevant now, forgotten. I'm here because I care and I want to clear the air. That's all."

His eyes soften somewhat...He relaxes against the open door but still blocks my path.

"Cath, no offense but she's dealing with a lot right now and I think you're the last person she wants to see."

"But why? I know the argument was bad and has had a huge amount of fallout, but Sara's a tough girl, what is it about this situation, this case that's so difficult for her to deal with?"

Sadness flits across his face. He composes himself almost instantly but not quick enough for me to miss it.

"It's not my place to discuss this Catherine. Please, just leave it be and go home."

"Grissom you forgot your cell..."

A third voice cuts off our conversation and I break eye contact with Grissom to gaze behind him into the dim hallway at the subject of our conversation. Her brown eyes meet mine, registering shock at first then quickly hardening to anger.

"What do you want?" I'd be lying if I said that her steely tone didn't sting just a little.

"Just to talk. Please?

"I have NOTHING to say to you."

She turns on her heel, making her way towards the stairs. I push past Grissom, pursuing her whilst saying a silent prayer of thanks for the yellow sign reading _'do not use' _stuck to the elevator doors. Christ she's fast - one flight of stairs ahead of me already. I push forward, spurred on by worry, curiosity and another emotion I refuse to register. I am vaguely aware of Grissom calling both our names somewhere behind me but I ignore it, pushing myself even harder until finally, on the fifth flight of stairs I catch up with her and reach forward and grab her wrist. She stops abruptly and I feel her resignation before she turns to look at me, and my heart aches when I register no anger on her face, just tiredness and pain.

"Catherine, I'm exhausted, and not up for round two. Just leave, now."

"Sara, I swear, I'm not here to fight, I just want to talk. Please, I just want a conversation, I'm not looking for an argument. I'm begging you..." Shock registers across her pale face but I can't blame her...I don't beg anyone for ANYTHING and even she knows me well enough to understand this about me. She studies me for a moment...Is that a hint of softness I detect in her dark eyes? With a start I realise I'm still holding her wrist and gently let it go. We both watch as it drops limply to her side. God she is exhausted - guilt stabs at me - its awful knowing that this is at least partially my fault. Eventually she raises her eyes to meet mine.

"Okay Catherine, lets talk."

Grissom catches up with us, nearly barrelling into me, panting from the ascent.

"Catherine, I really think-" But Sara cuts him off.

"Gil, its okay, we need to do this, this can't keep happening. Plus, I owe Catherine an apology." He looks surprised for a second then slowly looks from Sara to me, then Sara again. Finally I sense his silent acquiescence. He nods at both of us then turns and begins his descent, leaving us alone again. Sara takes in one deep breath then meets my gaze. Her expression is softer, more...vulnerable. Pain stabs at me again. She beckons to me to follow her up the stairs.

"My apartment is on the sixth floor, we'll talk in there." She turns and climbs the stairs, her shallow breathing matching the pace of my racing heart. I take a little comfort in the fact that she's as nervous as me. We reach the top of the stairs, go through a door then continue down a cool, dark hallway . About a third of the way down she stops, takes another deep breath then pushes a door open, holding it in place so I can enter.

"After you..."

Fuck, what have I got myself into?


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **Just a word of warning – this chapter gets pretty dark. I will try to lighten up a little next chapter but I really wanted to set the scene and do this storyline justice. This wasn't pleasant to write though, so I do promise to try and make the next chapter a little more enjoyable.

Sara closes the door behind me, then gestures to a brown leather couch across the room.

"You need a coffee or anything?"

I shake my head, then make my way over to the couch. My mind is a whirlwind of thoughts - does she want to talk first or do I start the conversation? Will she really want to share her personal life with me? What on earth am I doing here? She takes a seat on a matching chair opposite then drops her eyes to the floor, clearly wanting to look anywhere but at me. This is going to be difficult, but at least I've prepared myself for that. I inhale then breathe out slowly, forcing my muddled thoughts to the back of my mind, then clear my throat.

"First off Sara, I believe I owe you a huge apology. You were acting on a gut instinct, a correct one in fact, and although you did go overboard you only had his wifes best interests at heart. I shouldn't have got so heated with you - I should have sat down and discussed it calmly instead of blowing up. So for that I am truly sorry, and I'm also sorry for the consequences - the trouble with Ecklie and your suspension. I feel partly responsible so I hope that you'll allow me to make this up to you in some way. But...And I know I have no right to ask this, or expect you to even answer, but I want to know where your instincts about this case came from? You're an excellent and experienced CSI, there's no doubting that, but it almost seems like a sixth sense or something. So please, tell me, what is it about this and cases like this that evoke such a strong reaction from you? Anything you say to me is in complete confidence, I only ask because I'm concerned for you, and so if a situation like this arises again I can support you rather than battle with you about it."

Silence reigns. Her eyes remain firmly focused on the floor but it wouldn't take a CSI to notice the effect my words have had on her. Her breathing has picked up and her skin paled, and her hands are trembling a little. I'm afraid I've pushed her too far, that I've asked and expected too much too fast, and that she's shut down on me and is freezing me out. This was a huge mistake - why would she ever tell me anything, even if we hadn't had this latest stupid fight? We aren't friends, never have been. This is none of my business. After what seems like an eternity she finally meets my gaze. Her eyes are guarded, her expression unreadable, but then she cracks a smile. Its only tiny, and it barely reaches her eyes, but its something.

"After such a heartfelt apology I think it'd be cruel not to accept it."

I return her smile but remain quiet, willing her to continue. Her smile suddenly vanishes and her eyes become guarded again, and I'm afraid for a second that she's closed herself off completely again, but then she clears her throat.

"As for your need for answers, that's a little harder to accept. I haven't discussed this with anyone for years until today, and once has been draining enough. And to consider revealing it to you of all people no offence Catherine but we aren't exactly close, is just overwhelming. But...people seem to think talking is good for the soul, and as I'm already in such a forthcoming mood maybe we could talk about it a little. Maybe it'll help."

She falls into silence, taking the time to gather her thoughts. I sit still, waiting in silent anticipation for her to continue. When she looks at me again her eyes are haunted and suddenly I'm dreading what she has to say, something in her eyes tells me that something truly terrible happened to her.

"So, as a child, I didn't exactly have a conventional upbringing. Not that I realised this at the time of course. Whereas trips to the ice cream parlour or the playground were typical for most children, trips to the hospital were typical for me and my brother. Looking back on it I don't understand how we fell through the cracks - although our mom rarely took us unless it was bad, there should have been enough of a record for people to notice. Unfortunately no one realised what was going on until it was too late, and the unimaginable had already happened. Laura Sidle - my mother - was mousy, downtrodden and unremarkable. I did love her, what child doesn't love their parents, but looking back on it now I blame her almost as much as I blame my father. I know she was afraid of the beatings too, she got enough from him anyway and I guess she was trying to avoid any more, but what kind of mother doesn't step in when the father of her children is beating them with a belt or his fists or whatever he could get his hands on, and her children are screaming for help, screaming at him to stop? You hear about mothers running back into burning buildings to save their children, ripping off car doors on an adrenaline buzz to save them from a car wreck, so why didn't she protect us from him? Why didn't she leave? Why didn't she tell someone?"

I can't breathe. Her words paralyse me. I'm stunned, all I can do is sit in horrified silence waiting for her to carry on.

"As I grew older, I began to realise that this was not the norm, and it only made the beatings harder to take. I grew tougher though, learning that crying or screaming only egged him on and that they lasted longer when I made a noise. My brother was three years older than I, he'd learned the same tricks that I had - stay out of the way, don't fight or make noise when they did happen - but we never talked about it. I don't know if it was out of fear or just the fact that discussing it would make it more of a reality, although the beatings felt real enough at the time."

Her breathing quickens even more, and she stands up and begins pacing the room. And as if what I've heard isn't horrendous enough already somehow I know the worst is yet to come.

"It was a hot summer evening. I was about eight. My brother had gone to play at friends house and I was sat upstairs in my bedroom doing homework and wishing that he'd taken me with him. My mother was downstairs and my father wasn't home but I remember feeling uneasy. When he disappeared for hours at a time it usually meant he'd been at a bar, and the beatings were far worse and lasted much longer when he was drunk. When I heard the front door bang open I knew my worst fears were confirmed. I threw my pen down, shut my book and crawled under my bed. I heard my mothers screams and knew I'd be next, so I put my fingers in my ears and prayed that he'd exhaust himself, or would think I wasn't there. Eventually the screams stopped and I held my breath as I heard footsteps on the stairs. I just kept praying that he wouldn't find me, over and over again, breathing quietly and only when I had to. My bedroom door flew open and my eyes were fixed on his boots, black leather steel toecaps, that walked right to the edge of the bed. I held my breath, terrified he'd look down, but I was saved by more footsteps on the stairs, lighter this time. He turned to face the door, and then..."

She breaks off again and sinks to the floor. I want to go to her but I'm pinned to my seat, revulsion and fear for the poor little eight year old brunette welling up in my stomach. Somehow I force myself up from my seat and sit in front of her on the floor, tentatively taking her hand in mine. Her shoulders shake for a second but she composes herself, and when she looks at me her eyes are filled with tears but her voice is calm, detached.

"I saw my mothers feet fly towards him, heard his intake of breath. He didn't have time to make a noise, all I heard was this tearing noise, over and over, and watched the blood spatter on to the floor. Then he fell, facing away from me, but she still continued to stab him, over and over again. I closed my eyes, I was paralysed, but I felt the spray of the blood on my face, the warmth of it underneath me as it ran across the floor and pooled against my body. Suddenly there were voices, shouting from downstairs...dozens of feet thundering up the stairs. Turns out someone walking their dog outside had heard my mother screaming when my father was hitting her and had called the police. Someone pulled my mother off him, she didn't resist...the voices were an incomprehensable babble even though they were shouting, but I still heard the knife hit the floor. Then there was a gentle hand on my back. I flinched away, terrifed, still not fully understanding the situation. A police officer had bent down to check my fathers pulse and listen to his breathing, and they'd seen me cowering, eyes closed, under the bed. The next part is a blur. I stayed under the bed for what felt like hours, my eyes still shut, too afraid to open them. No one tried to force me out, but a lady from CPS turned up and talked to me for ages, and finally managed to coax me out. As soon as I stood up from under the bed she pulled me to her, hiding my face, but it wasn't quick enough, I still saw all the blood, my father lying dead on the floor, the young police officer puking his guts up in the corner. The most clear part of the memory from there is that although I can't to this day remember her name, I couldn't let go of her hand. My mother was long gone, and I never saw her again. I never saw my brother again either - we both became wards of the state. We've never got back into contact, I think seeing each other would bring back too many painful memories...I missed him though, I think as a child he was the only person in the world who truly loved me..."

Choking sobs wrack her body. I lean forward and wrap my arm round her shoulders but she shrugs it off, consumed by tears, so I settle for taking her hand again. Words fail me and for a moment I'm furious at myself for making her relive this, but I push my thoughts away quickly, I need my mind completely clear so I can do whatever it is that she needs me to do.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N**: Sorry for the hiatus - I moved house right after I posted the first two chapters and due to various issues I haven't had the internet until now. I've made a promise to myself to update more regularly though so hopefully won't keep anyone waiting too long from now on. And just so you know reviews are always welcome, praise or critique.

* * *

**Chapter Three**

Its been a few months since our fight, and while Sara and I aren't best buddies, there has definitely been a tangible shift in our relationship. On my part its because knowing the truth about her has made it easier for me to cut her some slack, and I think for her its that me showing some concern has helped her see that I don't hate her and I'm not trying to attack her all the time.

We haven't discussed what we talked about that evening. In fact, we haven't discussed that entire incident at all. When she came back to work after her suspension I think everyone in the lab was expecting World War Three to break out, but we shocked them all into submission after our first case together where we worked together civilly, still up to our usual excellent standards, but without the added argument. A few times since we've tested each others nerves, but I've bitten my tongue and counted to ten, and she's taken my advice instead of going on the defensive. So, not perfect, but better….and I want more.

Don't go getting the wrong idea - I'm not in love with her or anything, heaven forbid. But her opening up to me and seemingly warming to me a little has forced me to re-evaluate my feelings and our relationship. The confusion all began the first time we met.

"_Are you Catherine Willows?"_

"_She's out in the field. Sara Sidle I presume?" _

"_I know who I am, but you seem to be a little confused." _

I'd been hoping to cut her down, subdue her with a sharp remark. I wanted her to know her place. Instead she'd done everything to rise to my challenge apart from saying "I accept." And then, instead of submitting to me, she continued to respond with further challenges, and unfortunately, growing dislike. I sent us on a spiralling path, she thought I hated her when in fact, every second I spent with her I was in utter turmoil. You see, there was part of me that disliked her - she was arrogant, cold and closed off so I had no idea how to relate to her…but another part of me that still wanted to prove to her that I could break her, but in a VERY different way than my first attempt.

I know I'm not gay, in fact I wouldn't even say I'm bisexual. While I appreciate women, and have been with a few, I can't picture myself in a relationship with one. Hell, its getting harder to picture myself in a relationship with a man with my recent track record, but I have loved men. I don't know why this is, I have absolutely nothing against same sex relationships, but I only experience lust for women, never anything deeper. Every now and then I seem to get an itch I, or should I say a man, can't scratch, I think it stems from my dancing days. There were so many men, all of the time…sometimes I needed something different. And while there is definitely much fewer men these days, I still occasionally experience that same desire. I've been with three woman since I began working here, all wonderful, all one night stands. The last girl was especially lovely, and I hoped she'd manage to erase any lingering desire I had for a certain brunette…but no such luck. So while I'm most certainly not in love with Sara Sidle, I am definitely attracted to her…and since I came to understand why she behaves the way she does, and therefore killing nearly all dislike I had for her, I've began to feel more mixed up. I care about her, but its separate from the attraction…I want to be her friend, but I also want to sleep with her, and I can't have it both ways. Not that I'm entirely sure I could coax her to my bed, even if I tried, and I think that makes her all the more appealing. I'm used to getting what I want, so someone not immediately falling at my feet is new…and interesting…and frustrating. But, if I was to pursue this, and I did eventually get what I want, then that would destroy any chance we had at a friendship. While I'm not expecting her to beg me for a relationship, I think that its extremely difficult to form, or continue a friendship with a one night stand, and me and Sara are on thin ice as it is. And I do want that friendship with her. I want to gain her trust, make her laugh, and support her when she's had a really bad shift instead of making it go from bad to downright diabolical. So now you see my predicament.

* * *

I bury my face in my hands as I slump down on the benches in the locker room. It's not often a case will make me completely fall apart but I have a soft spot when it comes to kids and sometimes that makes my job unbearable. I won't sicken you with the details, but a little girl murdered by the people she should have been able to trust most is going to haunt my dreams tonight. Yes, we nailed the parents, and yes the prosecution will most certainly seek the death penalty, but sometimes that doesn't help. That isn't going to bring her back. So I let my tears flow, as the two people that should be crying for her are currently in a cell facing the worst possible punishment for her murder.

I don't know how long I'm sat here for before someone clears their throat from across the room. I look up and Sara is stood in the doorway, and although her expression makes it all too clear that she's uncomfortable I also register concern in her eyes.

"You want a beer?"

She repeats my words from three years earlier, and I'm more than happy to oblige.

We haven't talked much, but considering I'm usually the one with a lot to say it isn't really surprising. Sara, being the designated driver is still nursing her first beer whereas I'm on my third, but still not quite drunk enough to find the words. This is a little awkward, but not as bad as you'd expect considering we're barely even friends. I down the last of the bottle and stand to get another, but Sara gestures for me to sit down again.

"I've got it, don't worry."

She's off before I have a chance to protest. It's nice that she isn't lecturing me about it being my fourth drink. It's actually also nice that she isn't' trying to make small talk. Believe it or not I'd rather sit in silence than make small talk. I feel myself relax a little as the warm fog of alcohol begins to set in. Sara returns from the bar and pushes my beer across the table, and I flash her a grateful smile.

"Are you not going to ask me what's bothering me tonight then?"

"No need, you're a mother, its understandable that cases like this one would bother you. You respond how a mother should, it should be a mothers instinct to protect her child."

We fall into silence again and I don't need to ask what's currently on her mind. I've been so wrapped up in how I've been feeling it hadn't crossed my mind that tonight has probably affected Sara negatively too.

"Are you okay? Tonight can't have been easy on you either."

She sighs then smiles slightly before replying.

"Believe it or not, while it was hard I dealt with it probably better than I ever have before. Since our conversation I've been seeing a therapist once a week, and while its still difficult I don't feel as angry. Plus I could see you needed a friend and after you were there for me I thought that the least I could do is be there for you."

I'm surprised by how forthcoming she's being, plus my brain is getting more and more foggy by the second so I take a little more time to answer than I normally would.

"Thank you for this…and I'm glad that you consider me a friend. This is much more preferable to fighting with you, although considering how I've been in the past I wouldn't blame you if you didn't believe me."

"Catherine Willows, that was almost another apology, the second one this year in fact. Is there something in the air?" Her dark eyes sparkle and her tone is teasing. This is new territory for us, and I'm enjoying it a little too much.

"Too many of these I think." I gesture to the beer. "Don't get too used to it though, I wouldn't want anyone to think I'm going soft."

"Your secret's safe with me." Her wink is too much for my confused, alcohol ravaged brain to comprehend. I need to leave before I do something I regret.

* * *

After a cold shower and a glass of water I fall into bed and reflect on everything that happened during the night. My mom is fetching Lindsay for me when school finishes and I fortunately have the night off so a glorious day of nothing stretches out in front of me. Thanks to the four beers I consumed I think sleep will come easily today. The pain of the case dulled down enough, the only thing troubling me is Sara. She was exactly what I needed today, and while that argues the case for friendship, the teasing confuses that, and then when she winked at me…wow. I feel myself drifting off and try to push her from my mind but sparkling brown eyes trouble my last few waking moments.


End file.
